I ran my fingers along that dent for a moment before doing anything else, wondering absently what other moves. What other houses, that particular cabinet had survived over the years before landing in my garage. It felt strange, in hindsight. That something carrying such consequential secrets had traveled so casually through so many ordinary chapters of her life.
I almost left it alone. Almost.
Something about a locked cabinet sitting quietly in my own garage for years without my knowledge bothered me more than I expected it to.
I found a spare key eventually, in an old coffee can in Deloris’s boxes. Labeled in her own handwriting: “Cabinet — Important.”
My hands were shaking slightly by the time I fit the key into the lock. Some instinct already warning me that whatever waited inside wasn’t going to be ordinary paperwork. The lock stuck at first, stiff from years of disuse. Before finally giving way with a small, reluctant click.
I sat back on my heels for a moment before opening the top drawer. Giving myself one last chance to simply close the cabinet and forget I’d ever found it. I didn’t take that chance. Some part of me already knew, kneeling there in the quiet garage. That whatever I found next would change something permanently.
